truction or obey the mandate
of the Republic and leave Egypt in peace? And had not the great king
obeyed--humbly? Why, then, should not a Roman patrician maiden look
down on a mere monarch, who was a pawn in the hands of her kinsfolk
and countrymen?

To repeat these things is long. The mind moves faster than the
sunlight. Cornelia came to the dais, and there gave the slightest
inclination of her head--the greeting of a mistress to slaves--to the
group of courtiers. She advanced straight toward the royal chair and
stretched forth her hand.

"I am your debtor, O queen, for a kindness that I may not soon, I
fear, repay--unless you come to Rome."

She spoke as a superior addressing an inferior who had rendered some
slight service. The queen rose from her seat and took the proffered
hand without the least hesitation.

"And I will ask for none other reward than that you do honour to my
entertainment."

The voice was wonderfully soft, modulated, and ringing; like an
instrument of many strings. Every syllable blended into the next in
perfect harmony; to hear a few words was like listening unto music.

Cornelia knew later, when she was older and had thought more, that the
queen had instantly caught the defiant mood of her guest, and
thereupon left nothing unspared to conciliate it. At that moment,
however, she attempted no such analysis of motive. She was conscious
of only one thing: the luminous personality of Cleopatra. The queen
was all that Cornelia had noticed her to be when they met at the Great
Square; but she was more than a beautiful woman. In fact, in mere
bodily perfection Monime or Berenice might well have stood beside her.
The glance of the queen went through and through her guests like
arrows of softly burning light. It was impossible to withdraw one's
eyes from her; impossible to shake off the spell of an enjoyable
magnetism. If she moved her long, shapely fingers, it was speech; if
she raised her hand, eloquence. As shade after shade of varying
emotion seemed to pass across Cleopatra's face, it was as if one saw
the workings of a masterful spirit as in a mirror; and now could cry,
"This is one of the Graces," and now "This is one of the Fates," as
half-girlish candour and sweetness was followed by a lightning flash
from the eyes, disclosing the deep, far-recessed subtleties of the
soul within. Cornelia had entered the hall haughty, defiant; a word
and a look--she was the most obedient vassal.

Cornelia